A big day out

Max's Mum is wonderful, lets be clear about this.  Though I blog about my interactions with Max she looks after his upbringing, education, nutrition and emotional security on a height that I can only view from the metaphorical foothills.  For those reasons (and because I went to a big party on Friday night) I took Max yesterday.  It went a bit like this.

We dropped Ciara off at the massage parlour (it is actually a massage parlour, not anything else) at about 9am.  Then we drove to the school and I took some photos of the tiny students playing rugby against Willow Park.  I planned a cunning walk down the drive and circled around past Spar where I picked up the best coffee in Dublin.  I know that there are other pretenders to this throne, but the little coffee machine in the Spar in Rathmines is a blessed fountain of sweet ambrosia.

Then back to the car and off to Mini Music.  Mini Music is held in one of the many rooms above the main hall in the National Concert Hall.  A wonderful and long suffering lady named Rebecca leads a bunch of 4-12 month olds through a bunch of sweet little songs, while their parents look on.  At the beginning I was very skeptical about this class.  What could Max possibly get from a bunch of songs, he can't sing, he can't dance, all he does when he hears music is drool and twitch.  But I was wrong - he loves it.  He doesn't take his eyes off Rebecca from the beginning of the class to the end.  He follows her every move.  He smiles when he is supposed to smile, he rocks backwards and forwards when he is supposed to and he comes out full of smiles and excitement.  When we sing the songs to him during the week, his face lights up!  So kids love Mini Music, even 15 week old kids.

We dashed from Mini Music much to the disappointment of the other parents who love to make a whole social event of the the affair.  The students were in Rathmines right on time and they started to collect for the Irish Autism Society.  They were selling bands for €1 and roses for €2.  They were wearing their full uniforms and the little old ladies of Rathmines bought roses, left, right and center.  I helped by marshaling the troops and by alternating feeding and walking Max.  Max took to this strange change in his schedule with ease.  He smiled at all the collectors, he grinned at the old ladies and he took the bottle first time, both times.  First it was breast milk and the second was formula.  The staff and customers in the Kylemore Cafe were simply lovely.  They took pity on an overwhelmed father and they carried my tray and got me milk and warmed a bottle.  I had a coffee and a sugary bun, that had enough glucose to kill a weaker man.


Max drank, ate, burped and smiled away the afternoon.  He talked and he gurgled at everything that went on and made his father's life very easy.  The students came and went on the hour and at 3pm we finished up.  Max even waited while his dad had a sandwich and a can of coke, though he seemed quite concerned that I didn't need to burp afterwards.


I thought that my working day was hard.  I thought that looking after students was tiring.  Dear Lord, I was wrong.  The energy of watching each twitch and move of Max, the nervous observation of his every breath is exhausting.  So the evening went by with my new admiration for Ciara and all of her day to day care for Max.  We had a big day out and I look forward to many more.  But here is a quick personal memo.  Never have a big day out after a big night out.  I need another two or three weekends to recover.